


Deliver Me, Flower Love

by AWritingNerd



Series: Hades Fics [7]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Dorks in Love, Falling In Love, Hanahaki Disease, Idiots in Love, Language of Flowers, M/M, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Unrequited Love, because of Crocus, or he thinks so anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWritingNerd/pseuds/AWritingNerd
Summary: The Underworld notices mysterious flowers being left around, each one with hidden meanings they don't understand. A certain boatman knows exactly what they mean, however, and he isn't looking forward to confronting it.Alternatively:Charon develops Hanahaki disease for Hermes, and struggles to confess.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Series: Hades Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168565
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	Deliver Me, Flower Love

**Author's Note:**

> Changed up my style a bit! Hope you like it!

Charon knows he should say something. 

The flowers have been getting more and more overwhelming as time goes by, his lungs filling up with more and more of them, and while Charon didn’t need to breathe, the smoke that he expelled from his mouth lessened, an obvious sign of the distress he wanted no one else to see, though he didn’t have much of a choice thanks to the buds that forced their way up his throat and into the chambers of the Underworld. 

He tries to keep up with his job, tries to guide the Shades to where they need to be, and assists the prince when he passes by, but for the most part, he is left alone, and the isolation gives him time to think. About the flowers and what they really mean.

He knows that Yellow Acacia, Gardenia, and Angelica all have romantic connotations, though he isn’t sure how to feel about that, and he knows that the Crocus flowers he chokes up mean glee and youth, though he doesn’t quite understand why they are added to the blooms that burst forth until he meets Hermes again.  
With his quick wit and even quicker speech, Hermes is a constant source of amusement and joy for Charon in the dreariness of the Underworld. He brightens the edge of Charon’s life, delivering the Shades to make his job easier, as well as telling him everything that comes to mind. Charon enjoys listening almost as much as Hermes enjoys being listened to, and he would find himself settled down with the messenger god as the prattle continued, eager to hear everything he could. 

It was only when Hermes had left that the flowers began to come up again, and when he released the normal bundle, he suddenly understood the meaning of the Crocus. It was a flower sacred to his messenger god, the flower grown of the blood of Crocus, his companion. That explained the other flowers, then. They were just telling Charon what he already knew. 

And what he could not accept.   
\----  
It was hard not to notice the flowers. They were everywhere, tucked into the nooks and crannies of the Underworld, filling Zagreus’ vision everywhere he turned. Shades had already reported the growths to Hades, and those tasked with defeating the prince of the Underworld over and over again had commented on the blooms in passing, but none had found the source of the mysterious buds, and it didn’t seem like they ever would.

If someone deliberately planted them, they were never seen. There was no evidence of handling by any of the flowers. In fact, many looked natural, apart from the golden substance that marred a few of their petals. The clusters resembled bushes, appearing as if they had grown while all had been gone, and there were no answers to be found. 

It was only when Zagreus met Charon that he realized where the buds came from, when he had brought up Charon’s professional associate, Hermes, in passing. The boatman started to cough, and as he performed what Zagreus was sure were rather painful contractions, the flowers that he’d seen surrounding him littered the ground, along with the golden substance that had bleached and stained their petals. 

The gold of Charon’s blood.

Charon! What the hell is happening…?” his hushed whisper trailed off as he took in the flowers on the ground, specifically one of them. He had been told the story by Aphrodite in passing, since the goddess seemed to know of the love lives of each of her family members, and he had seen Hermes carry these flowers in his pack before. The Crocus flower, the flower that was sacred to the messenger god alone…

And Charon had just hacked it up

It didn’t take much to put it together, though it still didn’t make much sense to him. He looked upon the small buds, and then back to their producer, before averting his eyes out of respect when Charon seized and began the entire cycle again. “You should...tell him,” he murmured quietly, setting down a pile of coins as a sort of offering before leaving the chamber. 

Zagreus couldn’t watch someone he viewed as an older brother suffer in this way.   
\----  
Charon knew he had to tell him, and he was sure he would the next time he met Hermes, but the next time became the next, and the next. The flowers piled up in the halls, and in the water. His body grew weaker and weaker. It wouldn’t take long before he would die, one of the first deaths he would ever experience. 

And then Hermes noticed. The messenger god’s gentle gaze ran up and down Charon’s body before settling on his eyes-their glow dull under his hat- and his mouth, which had lost the smoke that had so openly cascaded out before. “What is wrong, Charon? Why does your body appear so frail? We have not talked in some time, and while I know I talk over you quite often, you usually have something to say.” Hermes looked incredibly worried, something that immediately filled Charon with guilt. He didn’t want to hurt him, never him. 

Charon shook his head, trying to deny the concern, but as he did so, the vines in his throat lodged tighter, and he began the dreaded heave, this one weakening enough to send him sprawling forward on the tile of Tartarus’ chamber, Hermes’ alarmed shouts fading in and out as he coughed up more and more flowers.   
He knew, without a doubt, that Hermes noticed the Crocus. 

Charon seized, aware that these would be his final movements before emerging into the very river he transported so many on. Or, at least, it should have been his final movements, if he hadn’t been jostled and pulled forward so his lips met with those of his love.   
His...love…

It took him a moment to realize what was happening. The flowers had faded, turning to smoke and whirling away. The weakness in his body had lifted, giving way to the strength that he shared with the other Chthonic Gods of the Underworld. And Hermes was kissing him, embracing him passionately as he pulled Charon closer, eyes closed as he did so. 

Charon did not think any moment could get as perfect as this. 

“Σ ' αγαπώ, αγαπητή μου,” Hermes whispered quietly, and Charon could have sobbed.

It seems he’d been wrong.


End file.
